Emma, Hannah, and my IG accounts have been hacked. Further, the Blogger page where all our posts are collected has also been hacked.
For some reason, none of us have posted over the last few days, but you may have noticed the “journal entries.” Addison called this morning wondering what we were up to.
Hannah was in the office when I called her. Fortunately.
There’s a guy, Matt Harlan, who’s an electrical engineer. He overheard Hannah. He’s a nice guy, and maybe extra nice to Hannah (though never out of line).
When IG said they would look into it and recommended changing passwords, Matt said, “I can do better than that.”
His 30 y/o younger brother is a cyber security engineer for one of Meta’s providers. He was able to get some info and trace the IP of the poster.
Once we were all at a coffee shop near the theater, Hannah said, “It’s an obscure private organization in St. Louis called ‘Benevolence Worldwide.’”
“We don’t know if it’s the same people,” I said.
“Has to be.” Devon replied. “Same name with different words.”
“We don’t even know if these things really happened,” Hannah added.
“We should just change our passwords and delete the posts,” I said.
Emma shook her head. “Maybe not.”
“Why?” I said.
“Think of what we can learn about them if they keep posting. Maybe… we’ll understand things better…”
“Brilliant!” Devon replied. “You won’t have to wait for linked dreams!”
“What would we learn?” Hannah asked.
Addison laughed. “I’m a man who hits on cleaning girls and dancers!”
“You’re still her boss,” Devon replied. “Women wouldn’t have been a boss in 1880. Hannah’s a doctor, but the hospital men wouldn’t let her have a job. I’m a former slave—a black man.”
“That’s kinda hot, though,” Addison said, looking back at Devon.
“Anyway…” Hannah said, shaking her head, “what’s the plan?”
We talked about options for a while, but Emma’s thoughts made sense, and I added, “Besides, changing passwords wouldn’t help. They hacked us once. They can do it again.”
“We go on,” Emma concluded, “and hope we can learn things from their journals.”
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